


Waiting for the Miracle

by jennandanica



Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 23:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viggo's wasting precious time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from song of same title by Leonard Cohen and Orli's quote is from Viggo's poem "Communion".

***

Baby, I've been waiting,   
I've been waiting night and day.   
I didn't see the time,   
I waited half my life away.   
There were lots of invitations   
and I know you sent me some,   
but I was waiting   
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

I know you really loved me.   
but, you see, my hands were tied.   
I know it must have hurt you,   
it must have hurt your pride   
to have to stand beneath my window   
with your bugle and your drum,   
and me I'm up there waiting   
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

***

Some people spend their whole lives looking for signs.

Viggo is one of them.

When he met Exene there were signs which told him to stay and there were signs when it came time to leave her. And there have always been signs to tell him which roles to accept and which to reject. Signs which warn him when his life is spinning out of control.

***

In New Zealand, Viggo was overwhelmed with signs. All of them leading to one completely unacceptable conclusion. And Viggo thinks that maybe it was the country or being in the lower hemisphere or a misalignment of the stars or simply how deeply he had immersed himself in Aragorn. Anything that might explain it away.

But for the first time in his life, Viggo found himself avoiding the signs, wanting so badly to believe with every fibre of his being that they were pointing him in the wrong direction.

***

And Viggo's not sure why Orlando called.

When they finally finished filming, everyone stayed in touch for a while -- some more so than others -- but Viggo quickly found himself too busy with his writing and exhibits, the remainder of his time divided between Henry and filming Hidalgo. He was never one for premieres unless forced to go and the whole party scene just makes his head ache.

And Viggo's not sure why Orlando wants to see him.

During shooting, Viggo spent a lot of time with the younger man. He'd shown an interest in photography so Viggo had taught him the basics. He'd wanted to go camping so they spent a few nights in the woods. And Orlando had convinced Viggo to go surfing and to come out to the dance clubs when he would have rather stayed at home.

Orlando had found every excuse he could to spend time with Viggo and Viggo hadn't resisted. He told himself he was flattered by Orlando's attentions and that Orlando was only looking for the guidance of a more experienced actor.

And Viggo's not sure when he admitted to himself that what he felt for Orlando was more than friendship.

Certainly when he first met Orlando -- done up as Legolas -- something had stirred within him. But then he noticed that very same flutter when Orlando was out of costume. And he was quick to put a name to what he was feeling. Lust. Not one of man's nobler emotions but one he could handle.

Viggo told himself it was simply Orlando's beauty that drew him to the younger man. Artistic appreciation. Nothing more. Told himself he enjoyed the younger man's company because of his open nature and ability to enjoy every moment. That he admired Orlando's willingness to face his fears and challenge them head on.

And Viggo's not sure when he admitted to himself that what Orlando felt for _him_ was more than friendship.

Certainly the first time Orlando hugged him and did an oh-so-quick brush of his lips across Viggo's neck. Definitely when Orlando came up behind him in the makeshift darkroom and pressed himself against Viggo's back. And without a doubt when Orlando kissed him during some stupid drinking game the hobbits had invented. Kissed him with a devilish gleam in his eye, slipping his tongue into Viggo's mouth.

And Viggo's not sure when he figured out he was in love with Orlando.

He thinks he might have known that first time when they shook hands and Viggo felt something melt inside him. Or when he saw him in the moonlight and felt his breath catch so hard it hurt. Or when they took shelter from the rain in the doorway of the church that night.

And he thinks that maybe he knew it all along but couldn't admit it. Simply couldn't handle that he could feel such a thing for a man twenty years younger than himself, who had almost nothing in common with him.

And Viggo's not sure why he can't accept that he loves Orlando.

He thinks it might be fear that Orlando just wants a quick fuck. Or that _he_ does. He thinks it might be fear about his career and his family. Especially Henry.

But he also thinks that it might simply be that the prospect of love -- and especially of loving Orlando -- is far too scary and messy for him to handle.

And Viggo's not sure why he can't make these feelings go away.

He managed to keep them in check during filming and he managed to avoid Orlando as much as possible after they were done. He let the phone calls go to voicemail. He let the letters go unanswered. When they did see one another, Viggo would say "things have been crazy, you know how it is" and Orlando would give a small smile and nod.

Then came the phone call. Yesterday. From a cell phone. So Viggo didn't know it was Orlando. Answered it.

And Viggo's not sure why Orlando is coming to see him.

But there's a knock at the door and Viggo answers it. And deep inside him, something stirs and flutters.

"Come in," he says and Orlando steps inside, managing to grab Viggo in a quick hug before Viggo pulls away.

"So how have you been?" Viggo asks.

"Not bad. Yourself?" Orlando's hair is long and brown and wavy. His skin is tanned from time spent in the Caribbean and Viggo imagines how they would look together, skin against skin, bodies entwined. He knows he is trembling slightly. Wonders if Orlando notices.

"Good. Busy. You know how it is," Viggo says. Orlando gives a small smile and nods. "So you said you needed to see me?"

"Yes. I had something I wanted to ask you."

"What?" Viggo says, not really wanting to know.

And Orlando is moving, shifting, hands fluttering. "If I don't come out and say it, I'm going to lose my courage. So I'll just ask. Why aren't we together?"

"I don't know what you mean," Viggo says, thinking that Orlando is not supposed to do this. Not supposed to confront. Not supposed to question.

Orlando steps closer. "I think you do," he says, pausing. _"Tried to say something that filled my mouth and longed to rest in your ear. Don't dare write it down for fear it'll become words. Just words."_

And Viggo can't move, can't speak. Thinks that as a poet he should be able to say something. But he has no language for this. And Orlando is in front of him, cupping his head in his hands and lowering his mouth to his and -oh-

this is a sign. A definite sign. A neon billboard sign. Lit up by all the other oh-so-small, just-barely-there, had-to-be-willing-to-catch-them, had-to-be-looking-to-see-them signs that he so willingly passed by.

***

Some people spend their whole lives looking for signs.

Viggo is one of them.

And this time he's paying attention.


End file.
